


the gravity between us

by wormguts



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Best Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Season/Series 01, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 15:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20708621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormguts/pseuds/wormguts
Summary: Loving his best friend didn't used to be this hard.





	the gravity between us

**Author's Note:**

> all i've been posting is angst so here's your scraps come n get 'em *throws fluff*
> 
> this has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust for four years and i barely edited anything so if it's terrible, that would be why. enjoy! :3

Wally is like gravity.

The thought is odd. It just kind of creeps into Dick’s head one day on its own, slipping between the folds of his t-shirt and softly probing him from his lost thoughts. It’s weird. Gravity? What the hell does that even mean? Certainly, it’s not backed by any scientific evidence, but Dick doesn’t really care much. He’s still a little out of it like he has been for too long, and suddenly it’s the best thought he’s ever had because Wally is curled up against him, limbs tangling with limbs, binding Dick to earth both physically and emotionally. It’s _genius._

It sucks, and Dick's in love with his best friend.

* * *

It’s not until they’re boarding the Bio-Ship several hours later that everything comes crashing back down. The hazy high he’s felt all morning is quickly replaced by reality. Wally tags right on his heels all through the debrief, as usual, and sits impossibly close to him as Dick takes his seat. As usual. Dick ignores him. He watches the ground grow smaller and smaller as he drifts further and further away. He watches instead of acknowledging the hand secretly holding his own.

It’s warm. Dick briefly wonders if he should’ve worn his breathable stealth suit. He’d forgotten to check the weather, so now he’s stuck in this bulky gear that’s clinging to his body like a second skin. Honestly, it’s suffocating, and Wally is doing little to help. The boy is practically sitting on Dick, his fingertips drawing shapes and patterns on his thighs as he alternates between dozing off and making sure Dick never experiences peace during his earthly life again. To top it off, Dick decided to wear pants with holes in them, and Wally’s fingers keep slipping into the openings and stroking the exposed flesh with a sick kind of determination.

Belatedly, Dick realizes today might not be his day.

Wally is talking animatedly with M'gann, who is sitting on the other side of him. He has a pack of Cheetos in his lap, coating the fingers of his free hand. The hand not playing with Dick's.

Dick isn’t listening to them. He only catches bits and pieces of their conversation, and from what he’s heard (something about the believability of zombie flics), he’d rather stay out of it. He’s too tired to keep up, anyway, so he closes his eyes and leans back in his seat, attempting to squeeze a nap in before they land. Hopefully, Wally will get the hint and stop touching him.

Wally does not.

_“Train to Busan_ is trash,” Wally is saying once Dick accidentally tunes back into the discussion. He’s got one hand loosely gripping Dick’s, and the other squeezing his knee. Dick can only mentally sigh. He probably licked all the cheese dust off his fingers.

“Excuse me?!” M'gann, outraged, is not willing to put up with this level of disrespect. Even with his eyes closed, Dick can tell she's puffing her chest out indignantly and leveling Wally with a challenging look. _“Train to Busan_ is a cinematic _masterpiece_. Anyone who thinks otherwise is either not human or has no heart.”

Wally laughs good-naturedly. One of his hands is roaming the expanse of Dick’s left thigh absentmindedly. “That’s the reason it’s trash, my guy. Listen; I loved the movie, alright? But they played with the viewer’s hearts on purpose. And why the hell do the zombies run so damn fast?”

“That’s the whole point of the movie,” M'gann clicks her tongue. “If you don’t feel anything while watching a film, then what’s the point, really. Besides, it was pretty realistic, in my opinion. How does one make a zombie movie without it being tragic?”

“Ever heard of _Warm Bodies_?”

“That could be sad depending on how you look at it.”

“Because they’re brainless beings in a vegetable state...?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Well anyways,” M'gann continues briskly, “the movie plays with your emotions. Why’s that a bad thing?”

“Just not my thing,” Wally amends with a yawn. “As much as I didn’t like Gong Yoo’s character in the beginning, I think he at least deserved to live. The pregnant woman’s husband definitely deserved to make it. He was the best character, besides the kid.”

A wet finger pokes into one of Dick's pant holes. Ah. Today must really not be his day.

“Are you okay?” Wally whispers some time later, resting his chin on Dick’s shoulder and blinking inquiringly at him. Dick could punch him. His eyelashes brush the tops of his cheeks as he blinks slowly, and it makes Dick’s chest constrict uncomfortably.

“I’m fine.” Dick hopes it’s convincing.

It’s not. Perhaps it’s Dick’s voice cracking that gives him away. Wally’s forehead creases in the middle and his smile and dimples disappear at an alarming rate. “Don’t give me that,” he whines. He burrows his face into Dick’s neck with a weak slap to Dick’s chest. It’s tooth-rotting cute. Dick sighs because really, what else is there to do.

“It’s really nothing,” he tries weakly.

Wally sits up, giving the older boy a doubtful once-over. “I call bullshit.”

Superboy, in the seat in front of them, turns to squint their way with an air of superiority greatly beyond his years. He’s in the middle of stuffing his face with Kaldur’s healthier alternative to potato chips, though that doesn’t stop him from agreeing. “You’ve been weird all day,” he points out through a particularly large mouthful.

Wally pokes Dick’s cheek. “And you’ve been ignoring me.”

“I have _not_,” Dick guffaws indignantly.

“You didn’t kiss me good morning! Or ask me how I slept!”

Superboy gags. Dick thinks it serves him right with the way he’s been shoveling those gross, off-brand Lays (“They’re sunbaked, not an abomination!”) into his mouth-hole, but he refrains from saying so out loud.

“I swear, sometimes you two are too clingy,” Superboy’s face scrunches up in a grimace before he turns the other direction and slips his headphones back over his ears.

Wally shakes his head. “He’s always talking about us, but he’s the worst offender here. Everyone knows he's just a big baby for M'gann." His breath is hot as it fans across the side of Dick’s face. “I wish you treated me like that,” the boy sighs wistfully, slumping in his seat dramatically.

Dick rolls his eyes. "I don’t give you special attention for a couple hours and you go running my name out of town,” he _tsks_ playfully, ruffling Wally’s hair. “What am I going to do with you?”

Wally beams. “Buy me snacks!”

Dick, mock horrified, clasps a hand against his heart. “Is this all you use me for? You should be ashamed of yourself. I am an upstanding member of this community and anyone would be lucky to have me!”

Wally shushes him with a finger against his lips, giggling softly. He nestles further into the older boy, now fully on his lap, and kisses his cheek. Dick lets him do as he pleases, hiding his pleased grin into Wally’s hair as he returns the favor.

“You’re great, Rob, but you’re still buying me snacks,” Wally adds. He cackles mercilessly as Dick groans.

* * *

Dick actually does end up buying Wally those treats and he appeases the younger boy by awarding him a goodnight kiss to compensate for the one he forgot to give that morning. He makes up for it about a thousand times over during the following weeks. He uses it as an excuse for the way he coddles Wally. They’re attached at the hip, inseparable. And Wally lets Dick do whatever he wants, so that feeds Dick’s obsession further.

“Rob’s in love with me,” Wally will tease him endlessly in front of the Team. Dick really wishes he wouldn’t blush considerably at the mention of the underlying truth. He hopes any subliminal messages the others could be picking up on as they watch him anchor his body and heart to Wally don’t seep through the fabric of his flimsy lies. Wally and Dick have always been clingy. But Dick is finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off the other boy.

He thanks god Wally is an oblivious idiot and hasn’t picked up on it. It makes things like kissing Wally and pulling Wally into his lap and combing his hands through Wally’s hair extremely easy to do.

Dick’s currently doing all three. He chalks it up to the same old “I’m lonely” excuse they concocted around the same time kissing became something they do on a regular basis. Despite contrary belief, it was actually Wally that made the first move. He’d kissed Dick one day out of the blue, for seemingly no reason at all.

“Why’d you do that?” Dick had asked, eyebrows reaching for his hairline.

Wally had just shrugged. “I’m lonely.”

Now they don’t bother with justifications or complicated things like feelings. Wally kisses Dick because he’s lonely and craving the attention he should be getting from a girlfriend. Dick kisses Wally because he has the biggest, most pathetic crush on the fucker.

It’s kind of poetic, actually, when Dick isn’t wallowing in self-pity long enough to consider it. He tries telling himself Wally is just _lonely_ when he cuddles with him in bed. He tries convincing himself Wally doesn’t feel the same way when he sucks hickeys across Dick’s chest, but that’s not working so well as of late.

Like right now, for example.

“Hey, Rob, we should get up.” Wally punctuates his point by trying to wiggle out of Dick’s lap. The latter only tightens his grip around the lanky boy’s waist. “We have to get ready.”

In truth, they actually should be getting out of bed. They should be showering and preparing themselves for whatever mission Kaldur has for them. But Wally is warm and his body feels nice pressed up against Dick’s, so he continues peppering kisses across the smooth, flushed skin and ignores the other’s protests.

“We can get up in a minute,” Dick says dismissively, pecking the area just under Wally’s right ear. He blinks blearily down at Dick.

“Are you lonely?” He asks. He cups Dick’s face in his hands, swiping his thumb across a freckle lying there. Dick nods and ignores the pang of guilt this shoots towards his gut.

“A little.”

Wally kisses Dick’s nose determinedly. “Better?”

They grin at each other.

“A _little_.”

Then Wally moves and he wraps his arms around Dick’s neck. He stretches out to Dick like a plant towards the sun, and they mold into each other in the early morning light. It’s a blissful revere Dick is trapped in, everything coated in gentle touches and murmured confessions, but he never wants to escape. He doesn’t want the spell to be broken because here, in moments like this, he doesn’t have to worry about what Wally is thinking of him. This, here, _now_, is just how they usually are.

And Dick’s lonely, after all.

“What are you thinking about?” Wally speaks softly, almost quiet enough for Dick to miss. The other boy is curled up on top of Dick, bodies pressed against the headboard of the bed. Dick’s long arms encase Wally and he thinks about how natural it feels to just sit here amidst the mountain of blankets piled around them and fucking _admire_ his sleep ruffled best friend. He doesn’t even feel freaked out by the urge to praise the shit out of him, either.

“You,” he replies with a smirk. Wally mirrors him, waggling his eyebrows.

“What about me? Pray tell.”

Dick brushes Wally’s bangs out of his eyes as he contemplates that. His hair is sticking in every direction, a fluff of strawberry-scented shampoo and something akin to a burrow. Sometimes Dick wonders how he can create such a bird’s nest in his sleep.

Regardless, it’s every ounce of endearing. Hell, even the dried drool at the corner of his mouth is cute.

This must be an all-time low for Dick.

“I was just thinking about how ugly you are,” he deadpans instead. Wally lets out a battle cry and clobbers the untruthful man over the head.

“Don’t lie to me, Dick Grayson!”

Dick giggles involuntarily at that. Immediately, he covers it with a cough. “Codenames,” he chastises.

“Fine, _Robin_, but I mean it.” He throws his head into the air with a huff. Dick kisses his exposed neck.

“Okay, big guy.” Another kiss. “Now get off of me so we can go eat.”

Wally immediately complies, padding out of the room in his polka dot socks, and Dick vaguely realizes two things as he follows after him:

  1. Wally has a cute butt.
  2. He is so impossibly, irrevocably _doomed_.

* * *

They’re ordering takeout, which either means they’re all going to drink or they’re all going to drink and _get drunk_. Dick doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle that. His brain feels mushy, as it has for weeks since his apparent revelation of sorts. He still denies that morning ever happened (“it was the hangover speaking”). Deep down, though, Dick knows that’s a lie. He really does love his bug-eyed, grasshopper-legged best friend with every fiber of his being. He always has and that’s definitely nothing for Dick to lose sleep obsessing over it.

Meaning Dick thinks and thinks and then thinks some more, until he can feel brain cells oozing out of his head through his ears. It’s impossible, really, because Dick knows he loves his friends like family. But Dick has a creeping suspicion it’s not the type of love he’s used to when Wally’s thrown into the equation. There’s a difference between love and _in_ love and Dick’s having the hardest time distinguishing between the two.

So no, Dick is not _in_ love. And even if he were, he definitely wouldn’t be in it with _Wally_.

His head feels dizzy for some reason. All this thinking and stewing must be getting to him, and Kaldur’s careful gaze does little to qualm his anxiety.

“Are you not drinking?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, shuffling across the floor so they’re sitting next to each other. He has a beer can in one hand, a cup with a pizza slice stuffed into it in the other. He offers both to Dick.

“I’m good,” is all Dick offers as reply. He politely declines both the beer and pizza (why’s it in a cup?) and Kaldur frowns.

“Are you sick?” He deflates a little.

Dick shakes his head. “I just don’t feel like drinking tonight. Got an early day tomorrow, remember?”

Kaldur doesn’t look convinced, but his forehead smooths out again anyway, so Dick supposes it’s alright. Really, Dick doesn’t want to drink because he doesn’t trust his subconscious to not give the secrets trapped in his heart away. He’s afraid of what he might do while under the influence, especially when Wally’s around. Dick’s never been very good at keeping his alcohol.

The others are scattered around the room, Superboy singing along to karaoke and M'gann swaying to the music as his drunken backup dancer. They’re entertaining enough on their own, but Dick’s eyes keep drifting to Wally as if they have a will of their own. He’s on the couch against the far wall, wrapped in tipsy smiles and one of Dick’s shirts. He’s watching the scene casually, his legs tucked under him and a beer in his hand. He must’ve noticed Dick staring because he turns then and his smile is directed at _Dick_ now. Dick is reminded of the sun.

Dick, the annoyingly flustered boy, quickly averts his gaze to the floor.

“You know,” Kaldur begins thoughtfully from the right, “I should probably go sleep.” He yawns cutely and brings a hand up to catch it.

Dick nods. The other boy looks half asleep. He stumbles to his feet (refusing any assistance from Dick) and shuffles to the door with a small wave.

“You should drink something,” he calls over his shoulder. “And keep Wally company! He keeps looking over here like a lovesick puppy.” Dick feels his face heat under Wally’s presumptive eye. He throws his shoe at Kaldur, who only cackles and dodges the article with a spin. He’s a pest. Only, now he’s disappeared, and Dick has no excuse to be sitting in the corner alone anymore.

“Come join us!” M'gann calls over the sound of the music. It’s some Korean girl group song. Dick can’t think of the name.

“I’m busy,” he calls back. Superboy shakes his head in a serious sort of way, wagging his finger, and M'gann whines loudly.

“Too busy to dance with us?!” they yell in unison.

Dick lifts his body from the ground with a sigh. He supposes it won’t hurt to humor them for a couple songs. It won’t do too much damage to goof off a little, even if he’s tired and Wally is watching intently as he takes up a spot next to him on the couch. He scoots over so they’re close enough to whisper, hips brushing against each other. He finally returns Wally’s smile.

“Hello again,” Wally greets. His face is only partially visible under Superboy’s disco lights. A rainbow falls across his left cheek.

“Hi.”

And then there are microphones being thrust into their hands and both boys giggle like school girls as they sing together. M'gann watches from the sidelines, cheering them on with exaggerated hollers that echo around the room over the sound of music. Superboy claps drunkenly. It’s nice, Dick thinks; it’s warm.

It’s comfortable.

Wally’s beer somehow finds its way into Dick’s hand and down his throat. He doesn’t remember taking a swig, but Wally is prompting him with a hand on his thigh, so Dick forgets why he shouldn’t be drinking in the first place.

* * *

Sometimes Dick thinks he’s slick.

Tonight, however, is not one of those times. Three beers from sober, Dick isn’t exactly in the best mindset to be going around discreetly asking his crush about his totally platonic feelings for his best friend.

Does that stop Dick?

No, no it doesn’t.

“What’d you say?” Wally asks between texts messages. He’s not even bothering to look at Dick sitting next to him. Dick pretends this doesn’t bother him by stifling an exasperated noise into the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Never mind,” he mutters and, despite his best efforts, it still sounds dejected. _Damn him._

Wally raises an eyebrow from his place on the floor. They’d remained in the living area after the others went to bed and they should be doing the same, but Dick is nothing if not determined. He’ll see this thing to the bloody end.

Wally, on the other hand, is lying half asleep on his stomach, looking more dead than alive.

Wally shrugs with an “Okay,” and Dick has never wanted to scream more in his entire life. They both have more alcohol than blood inside their bodies at the moment. Dick, however, is feeling extra shy tonight. Which doesn’t make sense. Isn’t being intoxicated supposed to like, make him grow an extra pair of balls or something? All Dick wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep for the next decade and never have to face his homosexual tendencies.

He’ll just have to make do then.

“Do you like anyone?” he barks suddenly. Wally jumps a little and throws a dirty look over his shoulder at the older boy.

“What the fuck? Did you have to yell so loud? You scared the shit out of me,” he hisses with a scowl. Dick laughs sheepishly, awkwardly rubbing his neck. Wally rolls over so he’s on his back. “I like a lot of people,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. His hair fans out onto the floor in soft waves. Dick wants to reach out and pet it. But he’s on a mission. He can’t get distracted.

“I don’t mean like that,” Dick mirrors the other boy, lying on his back with his hands behind his head. They’re so close Dick could easily accidentally elbow Wally in the eye. Key word being _accidentally_. Ah, being drunk is weird.

Wally hums in understanding. “You mean _like_ like? Like, love?”

Dick swallows, his saliva trickling down his throat uncomfortably. “Yeah, like that.”

And Dick braces himself. He braces himself for every confession, every declaration of love that could slip from Wally’s lips and stab him in the chest. He’s prepared.

“Yes, I do.”

Well, maybe not that prepared.

"Oh," he replies. His voice sounds ghostly hollow. Wally's eyebrows scrunch together in concern.

"Do _you_ like anyone?"

Dick laughs like that's the funniest thing he's ever heard. He laughs like Wally didn't just singlehandedly force his ribcage open and pull his beating heart from his body. A little dramatic, sure, but Dick's always been fond of Shakespeare.

Right now, though, Dick can't even bring himself to enjoy the arm winding itself around his waist and squeezing him playfully.

"No, I don't like anyone.” It’s almost like a warning. 

Wally's arm goes limp.

"Oh."

* * *

Dick wakes up with his head a jumbled mess on Wally’s chest and the worst headache he’s ever had.

He wishes the headache could be from his hangover. He finds himself thinking more. He’s been doing a lot of thinking recently, mostly about Wally. Maybe that’s why he realizes it. Maybe that’s when he recognizes that he doesn’t really know when this started.

_This_: the sweaty palms, the erratic breaths, the constant need for reassurance and validation. When did he become so needy?

Most days Dick chalks it up to their closeness, their inseparability. It makes sense for a whole spiel of reasons, but there are still days when Dick doesn’t want to accept that. There are still days when Dick fools himself into thinking it’s something more.

“Stupid, stupid Rob. We’re _friends_.”

Dick hears Wally’s voice when he wakes up in a cold sweat with beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. He can hear his voice everywhere — in the cracks in the floorboards, in the spaces between his fingers, even in his dreams.

Dick’s just confused. He wants to know when this ever-growing obsession began. He wants to know when he started looking forward to waking up next to Wally. He wants to know when he started thinking about Wally’s skin and how it’d feel against his own. He wants to know a lot of things, but he has no answers. These thoughts invaded his subconscious somewhere between the first and last page of his book and Dick’s lost his place in the story. He’s left reeling every time Wally gives him the tiniest amount attention.

Dick doesn’t think it’s noticeable. He still jokes with the Team about their relationship, and Wally loves fan-service almost as much as he loves being a pain in the ass. Dick’s kept his distance, placed enough space between them so that no one will notice the lingering gazes or kisses he wants to leave across his best friend’s cheeks. He’s done everything to keep his secret from seeping through his fingertips and alerting Wally of his unholy intentions.

But Wally is like gravity. He chases Dick everywhere he goes. He’s there, pulling Dick to him like the tide pulls sand from the shoreline. He follows Dick like his shadow.

And Dick has no escape because Wally is the gravity that keeps him from floating away into the atmosphere on a summer breeze.

_Love_.

_I want you to love me, too._

**Author's Note:**

> not that anyone actually cares, but i specifically had Wally refer to Connor as Superboy because in the beginning he only really got along with M'gann. (WHOA! awesome attention to detail i know)


End file.
